The Tattered Hawk

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by

Every morning I walk my dogs.

Today was no different.

Coffee cup in one hand and two leashes in the other, Grace, Louie and I slowly meander quietly up our street. I listen to the symphony of bird songs ringing through the air. The dogs run along the wooded side of the road…Louie occasionally attempting to drop and roll in dead worms. Grace, since she is going blind, is much more cautious—sniffing the air for what sometimes feels like an eternity before she moves forward.

For the most part...they own the street. I’m just along to observe. LOL!

This morning, though, was different. It was bright and sunny and there was a soft breeze rustling the leaves. I was standing with my eyes closed, my head pointed toward the brilliant blue sky-simply enjoying the warm sun and the feel of the wind across my face.

Then it came…a familiar whistling screech—sounding loudly above the general cacophony of the normal bird songs.

I opened one eye, guarding against the bright sun, and saw the shadow of Mr. Hawk circling above.

He was caught in one of those drafts- the kind that spirals upward...higher and higher.

The interesting thing, though, was that with the sun shining down on him, I could see more details than usual. This hawk’s wings were tattered. From my view underneath him, it looked as if he was missing feathers and the ones I could see were partially damaged.

He was not perfect.

But…he still soared.

I stood there mesmerized- just watching him glide through the sky…

effortless – no restrictions – No Limitations…

ascending to infinite destinations.

King of the sky!

And I thought to myself…what a lesson this morning…if we could get past our imperfections that hold us back…